


Memories Flitting In And Out

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, BDSM Scene, Depressing, Dirty Talk, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fights, Fingerfucking, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Music, Long-Term Relationship(s), Oral Sex, POV Sherlock Holmes, Past Relationship(s), Past Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Poor Sherlock, Relationship(s), Rough Sex, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock-centric, Songfic, University Student Molly, University Student Sherlock, Vaginal Fingering, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6213427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in his drug induced haze, some memories get through…whether he wants them to or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Flitting In And Out

**Author's Note:**

> So I have just been listening to random songs I had stashed on my computer, and all of a sudden Harvey Danger's "Flagpole Sitta" came on and I listened to the lyrics a bit more than I usually do and I had the idea of a Uni!Lock fic that was set at two points: first year of uni (set around 1997/1998 when the song would have played more often) and then towards the end of Sherlock's time at university, when I imagine he probably started abusing drugs more. So yes, this is _quite_ a bit less fluffy than other stuff I have written for this fest. I promise I will make this up to you guys later!

He was always trying to numb the tumult in his mind, the pain in his heart. He was almost done with uni. Just a few more weeks and then he could have the degree his parents so desperately wanted, the accomplishment they thought was so damn important. And afterward? Well, then he could tell them to fuck off. He didn’t care anymore. He’d fucked it all up, lost all that he cared about. He’d been led away from the straight and narrow and he didn’t care anymore.

All he cared about was the sweet oblivion that the needle gave.

It was so hard to focus, so hard to care. So hard to give a damn. But if he was going to chuck it all away, at the very least, he could give his parents something to savour before he gave in to temptation. 

He laid on his dormitory bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the world, a hard feat with the paper thin walls. He could hear the world at large all around him, pushing at his senses. It was assaulting him, crowding him. Damn it all, it was a full frontal assault, and he was too tired and careworn to mount any suitable defense. He simply did not care. There was no point in trying. The only thing he could do was reach for his needle and go through his ritual and give himself peace.

He went to the task, measuring out his drugs, preparing his dosage, finding his vein…that was getting harder, which should be a troublesome sign. When had it gone from an occasional dalliance to a full blown habit? Before her? After him? He had forgotten, it was all so muddled now. His university experience was a blur. Perhaps that was best, though. Yes, perhaps that was best.

Once the sweet poison was coursing through his veins he lay back down and settled in. Hopefully he got the dosage right. To be honest, he didn’t _really_ care. The world was too much, his cares too many. His heart too shattered. He had made too many mistakes, too many that he couldn’t fix, and perhaps…well, perhaps the world was best without him.

And then he heard it. The song she had played, the song he had always thought was a song that described him even if he never fully understood it. He propped himself up slightly as clear, sharp memories flooded through the miasma of his mind. The memories of her, of them. Why this song, why now? Why now?

  
_I had visions, I was in them_  
_I was looking into the mirror_  
_To see a little bit clearer_  
_The rottenness and evil in me_

“You know, every person has good and bad in them,” she said as she leaned against him. Even though it wasn’t in either of their courses of study, somehow both of them had ended up in a philosophy class. He had been intrigued by it; she had needed a break from the tedium of pre-med studies. Two students having no need to be in the class had been drawn to each other like a magnet to a lodestone, especially to escape the snobbery of their fellow students.

He would have said it was kismet, if he had believed in such a thing.

And as he got to know her, he grew fond of her, the conversations they had. They could talk of the scientific just as easily as the philosophic, and he grew to love both types of conversations. She opened his eyes, expanded his mind, and he was growing to care for her. Possibly love her for it. Possibly just simply love her.

If that was at all possible, considering he wasn’t sure if he was capable of love. High functioning sociopath. That was the label he’d been given. Whether it was true or not…he wasn’t sure.

“Do you think there’s good in me?” he asked.

“I know there is,” she said with a smile, looking up at him. “The question is, do you?”

“When I’m with you, I think there is.”

“Then you may just have to be with me all the time,” she said with a grin, leaning up more to kiss him softly. As he kissed her back, he wondered if that may not be a bad idea.

  
_Fingertips have memories_  
_Mine can't forget the curves of your body_  
_And when I feel a bit naughty_  
_I run it up the flagpole and see who salutes_  
_(but no one ever does)]_  


He ran his fingertips along her bare skin, following it with his lips. God, he was lucky that she let him get close, that she let him worship her. She was perfect, in every way. From her small, round breasts with the pert rosy nipples that were just the right size for taking into his mouth to the arse that was just the right size for squeezing, he loved every inch of her, loved touching her, loved tasting her.

And while she might seem shy to some, in bed she was a saucy minx. Right now her wrists were handcuffed to the bedframe and she was wearing a blindfold. He could do whatever he wanted to her, fuck her however he wanted, and she’d just encourage him. But right now he wanted to taste her, bury his face between her legs and tease her with his tongue and fingers and make her whimper his name before he drove into her and made her scream his name as she came again.

He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her arse as he licked at her clit for a moment, hearing her moan and writhe, pulling against the handcuffs. After a moment he gently began to tease her clit while beginning to run a finger along her folds, and then he slowly inserted it inside her. He know how to tease her, just like she knew how to tease him, how to work her tongue around his cock and play with his balls, how to run her nails down his back and tug his curls, how to grind on his lap while kissing him and pressing against him. Soon he inserted a second finger inside her, slowly building up the speed and depth with which he moved inside her. He made good use of his tongue, too.

“Get inside me,” she breathed as she squirmed, panting. She must want him badly tonight. She hadn’t even come yet.

“Patience,” he murmured as he pulled away.

“Please,” she begged, squeezing her thighs together. “I need you. I need you to fuck me, hard. I _need_ it.” He felt his cock twitch at her begging, at her pleading to be fucked, at using language she normally never used. He gave her one last lick and pulled away, reaching for the condom on the nightstand and opening the wrapper and sliding it on. She spread her legs again and he positioned himself and he entered her slowly. She was so wet but still fit so snugly. “Oh, God,” she moaned.

He reached forward and took the blindfold off, looking down at her warm brown eyes. “I want to look at you,” he said as he reached his limit. She nodded and he began to pull out. Once he was nearly all the way out, he drove back into her, a bit more forcefully this time. She arched up to meet him, pressing her breasts into his bare chest.

“Fuck me harder,” she said. “Please.”

He nodded, pulling out again, and soon he was slamming into her, driving as deep as he could go. He moved a hand and repositioned them, moving her leg to get a better angle so he could drive himself deeper. This felt good. Sex with her always felt good, better than it had with anyone else. He could feel her start to clench around him. He knew her orgasm wasn’t far off, and while he should cover her mouth with his, silence her shout, he chose not to. And when she came loudly with his name on her lips he joined her moments later, his face buried near the crook of her neck, her name a whisper against her skin.

If it was always like this, he would only be so lucky.

  
_I'm not sick but I'm not well_  
_And I'm so hot 'cause I'm in Hell_  


The stress was overwhelming. Uni was harder than he had imagined it would be, and balancing a full course load and a girlfriend and the occasional private matter for his fellow students of a detective nature was taking its toll. Victor had offered him a stress reliever before, and he was taking advantage of one now in his dorm room. He hadn’t expected company now, though, and certainly not her.

“You know it’s not good for you,” she said with a frown, pacing in front of him.

He had the decency to look abashed. “I know,” he said.

“How often?” she asked.

“Just once a month,” he said.

“For how many months?”

He actually had to think about it. They were in their second term of their second year, and it had been the tail end of their first term back…maybe two months into the end of it? “Five months, I think,” he said.

She frowned. He had disappointed her. She stopped in front of him, knelt down so they were nearly at eye level from where he was sitting on the bed. “I don’t understand why,” she said.

“I’m not…I don’t…” he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…parts of university life are just hell. Not us, just…other parts.”

“Maybe you need to take a break,” she said.

He scoffed. “Like my parents would allow that.” She looked hurt, and he reached over and took her hand. “No more, all right? I’ll tell him no more. I promise.”

She gave him a small smile. “You give me your word?”

He nodded. “I give you my word.”

“All right.”

  
_Been around the world and found_  
_That only stupid people are breeding_  
_The cretins cloning and feeding_  
_And I don't even own a TV_  


“Maybe we shouldn’t have moved in together,” he said, pacing. “Maybe it’s just too much, too fast.

“Well, we can always change our minds,” she said. “It’s just summer term. I’m sure dorms will be open at the start of term again.” She stepped in front of his path. “But give it a chance, all right? Now come to bed.”

He nodded, and then the two of them got ready for the night. She was curled up next to him soon and asleep moments later, but he lay awake in bed for a long time. Between them they’d had some money, enough for a decent one bedroom flat, but not much else. She’d gotten a job to supplement the payments she was getting from the fund set up by her father, so they’d be fine, but it would be tight. They didn’t even have a telly at the moment, as the one she’d had in her dormitory had gotten damaged in the move.

Were they rushing into things? He loved her, he did, but this…was this too much? His parents didn’t approve or disapprove, as long as he finished university, but he worried that something would happen. That she might accidentally get pregnant. That they would have a need to get married. That one or both would need to leave university.

The more he thought about these things, the greater the need to calm down became. He knew she was a deep sleeper, so he eased himself out of bed and made his way to their telephone, dialing a familiar phone number. “Yes, Victor?” he said quietly. “Are you busy? I need something…”

  
_I'd like to turn off time_  
_And kill my mind_  
_You kill my mind, mind_  


“There’s not enough time in the day,” she said, setting her handbag on the table by the door.

“No, there’s not,” he said, looking up from his textbooks.

“At least you get to study at home,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. “I have to cram in whatever studying I can during my commute or on breaks or wherever I can.”

He sighed, shutting his textbook and rubbing his temple. “Are we going to have another row? Because I’m not in the mood for another row.”

“No, of course you aren’t,” she said. And then she sighed. “Look, why don’t we go out tonight? I got a fifty quid bonus on my cheque, and as all the bills are paid, we can go splurge. Go out to eat. It doesn’t even need to be somewhere nice.”

He shook his head. “I have a test in the morning. But…you go. Just because I have to study doesn’t mean you should have to sacrifice your hard earned time and money.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. He nodded, and she gave him a small smile before leaning over and kissing him softly. After a moment he pulled her closer. It had been quite some time since he had kissed her like that, actually. They spent more times having rows or being apart than kissing and being together. After a moment she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. “Maybe I’ll invest in some nice lingerie and I can entice you away from your studies.”

He gave her a grin. “Maybe I’ll allow myself to be enticed,” he said.

“Well, I’ll go now, I suppose, before it gets much later and the shops all close,” she said. She gave him another quick kiss and then went back for her handbag.

Once the door was closed he pushed his textbook away and went to where he had stashed his little baggie of white powder. Unfortunately he had not been able to get this from Victor, but he needed it. He went to go get his needle and his other accoutrements. If he did it now by the time she got back he would be well in the mood.

  
_Paranoia, paranoia_  
_Everybody's coming to get me_  
_Just say you never met me_  
_I'm running underground with the moles (digging holes)_  


“Go away!”

“You need help!”

He backed himself into the corner of the kitchenette. He frantically began opening drawers. He knew in the back of his mind who she was. Logically he knew he had gotten a bad batch of drugs. Logically he knew when the high was over he would be fine. Hopefully.

But right now…right now he wasn’t safe, and she was the enemy.

He found a knife in one of the drawers and pulled it out, brandishing it. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving closer, instead taking a few steps back. She very calmly went to the table and pulled out a chair, setting it between them. “I’ll keep this between us,” she said.

“Fine,” he replied. He stayed in his corner. “You’re going to hurt me.”

“No. No, I would never hurt you,” she said. He could see tears in her eyes. She went and pulled another chair out. “I’ll stay here for a while, make sure no one hurts you and you don’t hurt yourself. I’ll keep you safe.”

He eyed her warily. He was sleepy. So sleepy. “I’ll stay awake.”

She nodded. “Fine. You stay awake. I’ll still keep you safe.” She sat in the other chair and just watched him, staying silent. He stayed awake for a long time and the two of them stayed quiet until finally he passed out. When he woke up, the high had passed.

When he went around their flat, though, all her clothes were gone. She’d moved out. And when he asked around, she said she wanted nothing to do with him.

That was when he stopped giving a damn.

  
_Hear the voices in my head_  
_I swear to God it sounds like they're snoring_  
_But if you're bored, then you're boring_  
_The agony and the irony: they're killing me (whoa)_  


He felt himself start to drift out of consciousness as the song hit it’s ending and he realized no, his dosage was too much. He was going to overdose. He was all alone and he was going to overdose. He was all alone in this dormitory room and this was probably where he was going to die.

Damn it all. This was not how he wanted it to end.

He turned, his vision blurry, and focused on the object on his nightstand he had kept there, partially to remind him of a better time, partially to torment him. The picture of him and her smiling, of a day when his future had seemed bright, when his life had had promise. When he had had a woman by his side who he had loved with all his heart who he had wanted to spend his life with.

When he had thought that, maybe, he had a chance.

He grasped it, nearly knocking it over, and brought it to him. He dropped it on the bed next to him and ran his finger over her face, imagining he was caressing it one last time, imagining he was going to be able to tell her he was sorry, so so sorry, and that he would love her, always and forever, and that she would always be his Molly.

And then he shut his eyes as the darkness took hold.

  
_I'm not sick but I'm not well_  
_And I'm so hot 'cause I'm in Hell_  
_I'm not sick but I'm not well_  
_And it's a sin to live this well_  



End file.
